"I'm not sure that I understand what you are driving at. Perhaps we are talking about different things." This is not entirely without forbearance—may show a trace of uncalled-for patience, as towards an undeserved conundrum-monger.
"Perhaps we are, my dear. But as to what I'm driving at. Can you recall what Gwen said about his eyes?"
"I think so. Let me see.... Yes—she said did I know anything against him. I said—nothing except his eyes. And then she said—I recollect it quite plainly—'Who destroyed his sight? Tell me that!'"
"What did you answer to that?"
"I refused to talk any longer, and said you and she must settle it your own way."
"Nothing else?"
"Oh—well—nothing—nothing to speak of! Lutwyche came worrying in with hot water."
The Earl sat cogitating until her ladyship roused him by saying "Well!" rather tartly. Then he echoed back:—"Well, Philippa, I think possibly you are right."
"Probably then. Yes—certainly probably!"